


Arcadia

by fandommindpalace



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, It's For a Case, M/M, Mystery, Sherlock and John enjoy humiliating each other, There's also a dog, Undercover as Married, come for the gay and not the case, sort of a case fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandommindpalace/pseuds/fandommindpalace
Summary: Sherlock and John go undercover as a married couple in a planned community to investigate a string of strange disappearances. Inspired by The X-Files episode ‘Arcadia’.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 34
Kudos: 152





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some lines are taken directly from The X-Files 6x15 'Arcadia' as well as the residents' names and the general idea of the case. However it's NOT a crossover - I took out any supernatural elements (or rather adapted them).

“Welcome to the Falls, please enter your code now.” Sherlock tapped in the code that was given to them by Lestrade and the gates opened. “Ready for this?” Sherlock looked over at John.  
John took a deep breath, let it out. “Into battle.” They drove through the gates marked ‘The Falls of Arcadia’.  
The neighbours were all out on their lawns, standing next to their mailboxes and waving at them as they drove by. They smiled and waved back.  
“Good lord,” John said under his breath.

As soon as they pulled up in the driveway, a smiley woman walked up to them with a fruit basket wrapped in a bow. “Hi! You must be the Petries! Welcome to the Falls!” She thrust the basket into John’s hands.  
“Hi,” Sherlock shook the woman’s hand. “I’m Rob, and this is my lovely husband Chris,” he said, putting his arm around John’s shoulders.  
John nodded in greeting, his arms full with the basket. “It’s actually pronounced _peetri_.”  
“Like the dish,” Sherlock said, and grinned.  
“Oh! Well, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Pat, I live just down the road there. I must say, it’s 5:10pm, I don’t think you’ll make it.”  
“I’m sorry?” Sherlock said.  
“The 6pm cut off? All new residents have to be moved in before 6.”  
The two men looked at her uncomprehendingly.  
“It’s in the rule book,” she said, her expression turning serious.  
Sherlock and John looked at each other. Pat went back to smiling and said, “don’t worry, if we all work together I’m sure we can get it done in time!”

  
To the couple’s astonishment, the entire neighborhood came over to help them move in. One man was struggling with a box, at which point Sherlock ran over, yelling “careful with that! It’s very expensive china!”  
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m-” the box fell out of his hands and the sound of smashed glass echoed down the street. “Oh jeez, I’m sorry.”  
Sherlock forced a smile. He picked up the box and brought it inside. After the final box was brought in, Sherlock and John stood by the door and waved to everybody before closing the door. John shrugged out of Sherlock’s arms and gave him a look. “Well, clearly nothing weird going on here.”  
“Hm,” Sherlock said, looking around the house.  
“So,” John began. “Three couples disappear within the last three years. The last were the Kleins, disappeared from this house six months ago. No history of violence or mental illness, and it was always the employer or another family member that reported them missing. The local police found nothing, and all the residents claimed ignorance. Any theories?”  
“Seven, so far.”  
“Well, looks like they made a lot of effort to clean the place up. It’s spotless.”  
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Sherlock said. He first closed all the curtains. “Careful not to blow your cover for a second, John, I have a feeling we have some nosy neighbours.” He inspected all the floors and walls, and ripped apart the rug with a pocket knife. Then he looked up at the ceiling. “Well hello, what do we have here?” He dragged a chair over to the middle of the room and stood on it to reach the ceiling fan. There was a smudge of a brownish-red substance on one of the wings.  
“Blood?” John asked.  
“Not sure. Thanks to that blathering idiot outside I can’t test it until Lestrade sends over some new equipment.” He put the evidence into a small baggie and placed it on the kitchen table. Then he went over to the box marked ‘china’ that was now full of broken test tubes and sighed dejectedly. “Maybe I can salvage something out of this.”

  
Sherlock was taking out the contents of the box when the doorbell rang. “Oh God, what now?”  
John quickly grabbed the evidence bag and pocketed it before he went to open the door. It was the same man who had dropped the ‘china’. He had another box in his hands, full of plates and cutlery.  
“Hello,” he said. “I’m Mike. I just came to apologise about earlier, give you this to compensate.”  
John put on his best fake smile. “Oh, how kind! You really didn’t need to.”  
The man entered the house without invitation and set the box down on the floor. He glanced curiously at Sherlock, who had not looked up. “So, where are you guys coming from?”  
“London,” John said. “The city just got a bit too much, you know? We’d thought we’d start anew in the countryside. Isn’t that right, Rob?” John looked over at Sherlock, who was still digging. “Rob!”  
Sherlock looked up. “Hm? Oh, yes.” He walked over and put his arm around John. “We needed the peace and quiet. Too much crime in London.”  
Mike beamed at them. “Well, you came to the right place! We all look out for each other here.”  
“Funny, though, isn’t it? The disappearance of that couple a few months ago? This was their house, wasn’t it?” Sherlock asked.  
Mike’s demeanour changed as he became visibly uncomfortable. “Oh, I don’t know anything about that. I heard they moved to another town.”  
“Now why would they do that, isn’t Arcadia supposed to be paradise?”  
Mike shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know, new job offer maybe?” He smiled at them in an effort to regain his composure. “What is it you two do for a living?”  
“I’m a doctor,” John said, “Rob here is a chemistry professor. But we both took some time off to settle in.”  
“Oh, smart couple!”  
“Very,” Sherlock said with that fake smile of his, squeezing John into his side.  
“I’m a vet myself. So if you two ever feel like adding a furry little member to your family, I’d be happy to check them out! Just, you know, make sure to stick to the cleanliness rules and no pets over 10kg.”  
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Sherlock said.  
The three of them stood there awkwardly until John said, “right. Was there anything else?”  
“Oh, um,” Mike lowered his voice slightly, as the front door was still open. “I couldn’t help but notice that you drew your curtains. The rule here is to keep them open. Mr. Gogolak is very strict about these things. We don’t keep any secrets from each other here, and hiding away just doesn’t seem very neighbourly. Plus, we like to keep things aesthetically pleasing, you know? So if you could just open them up again, that would be great.”  
Sherlock frowned. That wouldn’t work at all. “What about when we want to have sex?”  
John spluttered, coughed. Sherlock patted his back nonchalantly.  
Mike flushed, but replied, “we have dedicated privacy hours, 11pm - 6am. It’s all in the rulebook, have you not read it?”  
“Right, of course! Must’ve slipped my mind with all the moving craziness. Thank you, we’ll be sure to open them right away. So kind of you to remind us.”  
“Great!” Mike smiled again. “Well, I’ll leave you to settle in. See you soon!” And, finally, he left with a wave.

  
Both Sherlock and John let out a sigh of relief once the door was shut.  
“How do you people do small talk all day?” Sherlock asked. “It’s exhausting.”  
“Well, it’s usually not as weird as that,” John answered, opening the curtains again. “Guess your investigation will have to continue after dark.”  
Sherlock huffed. “I bet Mycroft put Lestrade up to this just to mess with me. This place is my worst nightmare.”  
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re watching us right now, giggling with some popcorn,” John answered. “Speaking of which, did you check for hidden cameras?”  
“I haven’t looked upstairs yet,” Sherlock replied. “But we should be safe to talk here.”  
“Thank God. This place is creeping me out already. It is an interesting case though. Six people disappeared without a trace?”  
“Clearly one of these friendly neighbours is the culprit. That man was terrified of Mr. Gogolek, and he’s not the only one. Everyone is obsessed about sticking to his rulebook.”  
“As if there were deadly consequences to those who rebelled.”  
“Exactly.”  
“So what’s the plan?”  
“Well, I guess we’ll have to get the murderer’s attention.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock had to leave his box of scientific equipment alone until they could draw the curtains again, so they set to work unpacking the rest of the boxes and making their temporary home look as quaint as possible. 

“Ugh,” Sherlock said as he pulled out an ornamental duck. “This has _got_ to be Mycroft’s doing.” He begrudgingly placed it on a shelf. “I miss my skull.” 

John snorted. “I’m pretty sure if we started placing skulls and knives everywhere the neighbours wouldn’t be quite so friendly.”  
“All the more reason to do it,” Sherlock muttered. 

“Can we go to the back room or something? My arm is getting tired from waving at everyone who walks past.” 

Sherlock smirked. “Need to try something first.” He picked up another ugly ornament, a pig this time, and went out the front door to place it on the lawn. He walked back inside the house and motioned John to step away from the window. He looked through the peephole and watched as someone came over: Pat, the same woman who had welcomed them. She looked from side to side, then quickly picked up the pig and ran off with it. “Fascinating,” he said. 

“What?” 

“I think our friendly neighbours are trying to protect us.” 

“From what?”

“That’s what we need to find out.” 

*

They were dismayed to find that there was not one private room in the house, save the bathroom, and they couldn’t exactly both hide in there without looking suspicious. John set to making dinner in the kitchen while Sherlock read one of his chemistry books, keeping one eye on the window to monitor anyone walking past but pretending to be too engrossed in his book to pay them any attention. 

“Dinner’s ready!”

“I’m not hungry.” 

John popped his head through the doorway. “They’ll think it’s weird if you don’t eat anything.”

Sherlock groaned and went to sit at the kitchen table. “I hate people. I’ve spent my entire life not caring what they think.” 

“I know. Eat up.” 

They took their time eating, but when they finished it was still only 8:30pm. Sherlock put his head in his hands. “This is torture.” 

John reached over to remove his hands from his face. “Happy couple, remember?” He got up from the table and reached out his hand. Sherlock looked up at him quizzically. 

John rolled his eyes. “Take my hand.” 

Sherlock obliged and they went over to the couch together. It was right under the window, so anyone walking past could see the backs of their heads. 

“Not even a bloody TV to watch,” John said. 

“That’s why none of them recognize us. No contact with the outside. It’s like stepping back in time.” 

John let go of Sherlock’s hand and leaned his head on his shoulder. “Put your arm around me,” he said.

Sherlock huffed but did as he said. 

“Did you text Lestrade about the kit?”

“Obviously.” 

“So, assuming this Mr. Gogolek did it-”

“One should never assume, John. It’s a waste of time.” 

John sighed frustratedly. “Why would someone commit murder because of a piece of furniture on the lawn?”

“I stopped trying to figure out other people’s intentions a long time ago,” Sherlock replied. 

John lifted his head to look at him, and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw a face at the window behind them. “Jesus Christ!” 

It was Pat. She looked terrified and there was blood running down the side of her face. She looked to her right, then ran away frantically. Sherlock and John both jumped up and ran to the door, but by the time they went outside she was already gone. 

Sherlock examined the floor with a flashlight for any footprints or blood, while John ran after her in the direction she had vanished. He came back after a few minutes. “Nothing. She’s gone,” he said. 

Sherlock followed the tracks into the bushes, and saw some indents on the grass on the other side. “John, over here, we have to-”

John shushed him, grabbing his hand again. There was a man the other side of the street staring at them. “See, I told you, honey!” he said loudly. “It was just a rat!” He smiled at the neighbour and pulled Sherlock back inside.

“Calm down, you nearly blew our cover out there!” John hissed. “You just have to hope no one heard you saying my real name.” 

“John, we have to go back out there!”

“We can’t,” John hissed.

Sherlock groaned. “How am I supposed to solve the case if I can’t investigate it?” He paced up and down frustratedly.

“I thought you loved puzzles.” 

“Well, I can’t put the pieces together if they are locked away!” He stopped suddenly. 

“What is it?” John asked. Sherlock didn’t reply. He was staring into space. John knew there was no point trying to get through to him now, so he went into the living room to look out the window again. The road looked peaceful, and there was no one in sight. He looked at his watch. 8:50pm. This _was_ torture. He got out the 1000-page rulebook and started to read.

*

They both headed upstairs as it neared 11pm. John took a pillow from the bed and made to go downstairs, but Sherlock stopped him. 

“Better not risk it, John. I’d rather not face the conversation we’d have to have if someone found out you slept on the couch.” 

John groaned. “Perfect. Not only have we got a murderer to deal with, but peeping Toms too.” He lay down and looked over at Sherlock.

“What are you going to do?”

Sherlock looked at his watch. “It’s almost 11. As soon as those ‘privacy hours’ start I’ll check the rest of the house.” He started pacing the room. 

John turned away from him and closed his eyes, but the sound of Sherlock’s footsteps made it impossible to sleep. “For God’s sake, would you stop that? Just lie down for five minutes.”

Sherlock stopped, jumped into bed next to John and sat with his knees against his chest, tapping his foot impatiently. John turned around again and placed a hand on Sherlock’s arm. The touch surprised him, making him stop and look at his friend. 

“If you want me to sleep with you, you have to stop fidgeting.” 

“I won’t be sleeping, and neither will you. I have a feeling the person we’re looking for works at night. I need you to keep watch at the window while I finish examining the house.” 

John groaned again. 

Sherlock spent the night inspecting every nook and cranny of the house and periodically checking on John, who had dragged a chair over to the window, and shaking his shoulder when he started to drift off.

At about 2am, a popping noise came from outside. John woke up with a start and saw that one of the light bulbs had blown in the lamppost outside someone’s house across the street. He surreptitiously opened the window to listen and peeked through a gap in the curtain. He saw Mike run out of his house, crying out “ _no, no, no, no, no!_ ” The man worked frantically to change the lightbulb, his hands shaking. He fixed it and ran back to his door, but froze before entering, staring at something off to his left that John couldn’t see. 

“No, please! I fixed it! I fixed it!” He cowered as a large shape came towards him. John squinted into the darkness. The figure was humanoid, but much bigger than an average man. He couldn’t make out his face or any distinguishing features. It took hold of the man and he was dragged away into the bushes and out of sight. 

“Bloody hell,” John said, and made to run downstairs, bumping into Sherlock in the doorway.

“Did you see that?”

“Yes. It’s too late to save him now. If you leave, someone might see you.” 

“I can’t just sit around and let someone get killed!” 

“They might not be dead. In fact-” he stopped. 

“In fact what? Sherlock!” 

“There’s nothing else we can do tonight. It is of the utmost importance that we retain our cover. Trust me on this.” 

John sighed in resignation. “Well, I’m certainly not going to sleep now.” 

“Happy couple, remember?” Sherlock mocked John’s earlier words. 

John ground his teeth together. “Remind me why I agreed to do this.” 

“Because you would rather spend your life helping people than worrying about the colour of your mailbox.” 

“Well, we haven’t been much help here, two people have disappeared before our eyes!” 

“All in good time, my dear.” Sherlock began taking off his clothes.

“Er, what are you doing?”

“Going to sleep,” Sherlock said, pulling off his shirt and trousers. 

“You’re already wearing pajamas.”

“That was just for show. I always sleep naked, John, you know that.”

Unfortunately he did, because Sherlock had a habit of walking around the flat in nothing but a sheet and apparently had no notion of personal boundaries.

He was about to pull down his pants when John cried out to stop him.

“Nope! No. Not here you don’t. Get into bed right now before I knock you over the head.” 

Sherlock squinted at him, then did as he asked.

John let out a sigh of relief and hesitantly climbed into bed next to him. 

“Well, goodnight then,” he said. Sherlock didn’t reply, so John turned away from him and lay on his side. He fingered his wedding ring; Lestrade had provided them with one each. He thought back to when he’d entered their flat and brought them the case. 

_You’d have to go undercover,_ he’d said, _as a married couple_. To which Sherlock had simply replied “fine” at the exact same moment John had exclaimed “no way!”. 

Yet here he was, in bed with a half-naked Sherlock Holmes. He sighed and went to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw an opportunity to give Sherlock and John a chihuahua and I took it.

The next morning John opened the door to find Lestrade holding a box of replacement equipment. There was also a lead wrapped around his wrist, which led down to… a chihuahua. 

“Er, Sh- I mean, Rob?” 

Sherlock walked over to the door, automatically reaching to put his arm around John and then reversing the movement once he saw who it was. “Ah, excellent. Thank you.” He took the box from Lestrade only to thrust it into John’s arms, and then picked up the dog. “Bubbles! Oh, how I’ve missed you!” The dog licked his face enthusiastically. 

Lestrade raised his eyebrows curiously at John, who shrugged. “Right,” he said. “So how’s the happy couple settling in?” He grinned at them, and it took all of John’s willpower not to roll his eyes. 

“Oh, just lovely,” he said, trying and probably failing to not sound sarcastic.

“That’s all we’ll be needing, you can leave now,” Sherlock said, setting Bubbles back down on the floor. 

“Aren’t you going to invite me in for tea?” Lestrade said. 

“No time,” Sherlock answered. “Busy, busy. Goodbye.” John gave him an apologetic look as Sherlock closed the door in his face.

“Care to explain?” John asked, looking down at the dog. 

Sherlock didn’t answer. He waited for Lestrade to drive away then went into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of Ketchup, picked up the dog and smeared it on his paws. He then carelessly through the bottle back in the general direction of the kitchen, opened the front door, looked at John and said, “come along.” 

Sherlock hurried across the road and knocked frantically on the door of Mike’s house. “Oh come on, come on, _please_ ,” he said in a desperate voice, continuing to knock. John arrived at Sherlock’s side utterly confused. Sherlock looked around and ran up to one of the neighbours who was walking past. 

“Excuse me,” he said. “Have you seen Mike? I was hoping he could take a look at dear little Bubbles here.” There were tears springing in his eyes and his voice was quivering. 

The woman frowned at him suspiciously. “You didn’t have a dog yesterday.” 

“Yes, our friend was looking after her while we moved in, didn’t want to risk her getting hurt, you know?” His voice broke. “But we just took her in and, and, oh God,” he cried. 

John, trying his best to keep up, put a comforting arm around Sherlock. “It’s okay, honey, we’ll sort her out.” 

The woman was apparently falling for Sherlock’s act, as she put a hand on her chest in sympathy. “Oh, poor darling,” she said. “I’m sorry, Mike moved out yesterday.” 

John piped up, “that’s a bit sudden, isn’t it? Where did he go?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, he said he was going away for business.”

“What kind of business? Isn’t he a vet?” 

“Veterinary business, I suppose!” The woman smiled. 

“Right,” John said. “Well, I guess we better go wrap up her paw then. It’s just a little cut, I’m sure she’ll be fine. Rob here is just being a drama queen. Sometimes I think he loves the dog more than me!” He laughed and began guiding Sherlock away, but the woman called out:

“Oh, wait! My husband and I were wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight.”

John looked over at Sherlock, who nodded almost imperceptibly. 

“Of course, we’d love to,” he said. 

“So, we have a dog now?” John asked once they were back home, watching the chihuahua, who wagged her tail.

“Had to have an excuse to ask about Mike.”

“Couldn’t have just rung the doorbell like a normal person?”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” 

The dog bounded around the room, sniffed the floor, and peed in the doorway. 

John sighed. “Wonderful.” 

*

They reached the neighbour’s door at 6pm. When the couple opened it, John handed them a bottle of wine. 

Once sat down at the table, John said, “I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t recall your names.” 

“I’m Kami, this is my husband Win,” said the woman with that disgustingly cheery smile that all residents of Arcadia seemed to permanently possess. “You know, you guys are the first gay couple we’ve had here. I’ve been telling Win it’s about time!”

They both did their best to echo back the cheery smile. 

“So, how did you two meet?” Win asked.

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply, but John got there first. “A UFO conference,” he said. 

“Aliens?” Win said. “Interesting. Wouldn’t have thought you two folks would be into that.” 

“Well, it’s not me so much as Rob,” John said, putting his arm around Sherlock and relishing in the humiliation he knew he was causing. “He’s quite the New Ager. He’s into those magnetic bracelets, crystals, mood rings, can’t get enough of the stuff. Isn’t that right honey?”

Sherlock was seething, and the best he could muster was a pained smile.

“Wow, I wouldn’t have guessed that, would you?” Kami said, looking at Win, who shook his head.

“Oh, you know what?” John said. “You should tell them about that sighting you had last month!” He leant forward and lowered his voice as if revealing a secret. “He thinks they’ve implanted chips into our brains. Sometimes he goes into a trance, starts mumbling about how there are people in his ‘mind palace’.” 

They both looked curiously at Sherlock, who decided to change the subject. “You know,” he started. “When you told me this morning that Mike left on business, I don’t think that’s true.”

Kami feigned nonchalance. “You don’t?”

“No. You see, we called his office. Just wanted his advice on little Buttercup.”

“Bubbles,” John coughed. 

“Bubbles, that’s right. Buttercup was our old one, died a few months ago, bless her heart. Anyway, they said he wasn’t there, and they don’t know where he is.”

“Hm,” was all Kami responded. 

“Do you know where he is?” asked John. 

“I really couldn’t tell you,” she smiled.

“Must be something weird, for him to lie, don’t you think?” John continued. “Maybe he’s got some kind of secret other life going on.” They all laughed. 

Sherlock put down his cutlery with a clatter. “Could I use your bathroom?”   
“Sure, upstairs on the left.” 

Sherlock got up and walked off without saying thanks. 

“He doesn’t talk much, does he?” Kami said once he was upstairs. 

“He’s shy,” John said. “A bit awkward around new people.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay! He clearly loves you though!”

“Hm?”

“I can tell by the way he looks at you.” She winked at him. 

John frowned slightly, shook his head and then smiled. Sherlock must be a better actor than he thought. “Right, yes. I’m a lucky man.”

“Aw, you two are just adorable.” She looked towards her husband and said quietly, “maybe we should just tell him, Win.” 

“Tell me what?” 

“Is now really the time?” her husband said. 

Kami ignored him. “Have you read the rulebook?”

“Yes, it’s very… detailed.” 

Kami nodded and shifted uncomfortably. “You have to listen. Just follow the rules, please.”

“Why?” John asked. “What will happen if we don’t?” He noticed Kami’s fingers trembling slightly, and she dropped her fork. 

“It will get you.”

“What will?”

“The Übermenscher.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s a monster,” she whispered. “It will kill you.” 

Win put a comforting arm around her shoulder and said, “I think you should leave now. My wife isn’t feeling too well.” 

“Wait a minute, I’m a doctor. I can help.”

“Leave!” Win slammed his hand down on the table, making Kami jump. 

John cleared his throat. “Of course, I’m sorry. Please feel free to call if you need any help.” He got up. “I’ll go, er, fetch my husband.”

John found Sherlock snooping around the couple’s bedroom. He walked up and grabbed the other man by the shoulder. “We have to go.” 

Sherlock looked at him. “But I’ve only just started-”

“Now.”

“For God’s sake, I’ve only been gone five minutes, what did you do?” 

“We’ll talk about it when we get home.”


	4. Chapter 4

“She called it the Übermenscher.”

Sherlock frowned. “Superman?” 

John raised his eyebrows. “I’m sorry? Did you say this woman is afraid of _Superman_?”

Sherlock started tapping on his phone. “Übermensch, a concept invented by philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche that represents the ideal form of humanity.” 

“Oh, so she’s afraid of a concept. That makes a lot more sense. What the hell is going on here?” 

Sherlock sighed. “Still need more data.”

Bubbles had jumped up on Sherlock’s lap and he was stroking her absent-mindedly as he thought. “Shall we go for a walk?” He said suddenly, and she barked at him. 

“Should I come?” John asked. 

“Why of course, my dear.”

Sherlock took John’s hand as soon as they stepped outside. John didn’t pull away, but said “I really don’t think we have to do this every time. It’s not one of the rules.” 

“Who said anything about rules? Maybe I just need my husband to protect me from the scary monster,” he smirked. John rolled his eyes.

As they walked, Sherlock inspected the pavement. “Oh, and aliens, John? Really?”

John laughed as he remembered what he’d said at dinner. “It’s Chris. And yes. Think of it as payback for making me pick up dog shit.” 

“I suppose that’s fair,” Sherlock replied, still looking intently at the floor. “Although I wish it had been something _slightly_ less ridiculous. But I’m sure I can come up with another way of humiliating you.”

“Oh, it’s on.” John said, then surreptitiously nudged Sherlock as someone left their house and walked past them. They both smiled and nodded hello. 

When she was out of earshot, Sherlock said: “ugh, smiling at strangers. I miss the apathy of London.” 

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Robot,” John said. “Actually, I’m surprised. You’ve been playing the part remarkably well.” 

“I had several identities I used on cases before you came along and made me famous,” Sherlock said. “I’m used to acting.” 

“Really? Had lots of husbands then?” 

Sherlock stopped to look at John. “Problem?” 

“No, it’s just, er… Kami said something when you were upstairs. She said-”

Bubbles barked and suddenly ran ahead at full force, causing Sherlock to drop the lead. 

“Shit,” Sherlock said, and they both ran after her. 

She bounded forward and stopped at a storm drain, barking at it. Before Sherlock and John could reach her, she had squeezed through the gap and disappeared. 

“Shit,” John echoed. He bent down and took out his phone, shining a torch into the gap. They heard more barking, and then a squeal before Bubbles came running back out of the hole, shaking and terrified, into John’s arms. 

“It’s all right,” he said, comforting her. 

Sherlock crouched down, got a tissue out of his pocket and wiped her nose to reveal a reddish-brown substance.

“Hm,” he said, wrapping it up and putting it back in his pocket. Then he leaned down further to look through the drain, reached in, and pulled out a necklace. 

“A caduceus,” John said. “That’s Mike’s, I noticed it when he came over.”

“Indeed,” Sherlock said, pocketing it as well. “John, take Blossom back home. I need to find Mr. Gogolek.” 

“ _Chris_. And Bubbles.” 

“Yes, whatever,” he said, waving them away. 

*

“Well, it’s not Mr. Gogolek doing the killing,” Sherlock said when he came back home an hour later. “What’s that smell?” 

“Wet dog. The poor thing has only been with us a day and has already been attacked by multiple foreign substances, I had to give her a bath.” 

Bubbles wagged her tail at the sight of Sherlock and jumped up at his legs. 

“Yes, yes, hello,” he said, and went to sit on the couch. Bubbles jumped up right after him and settled on his lap. “Did you hear what I said?” 

“Mr. Gogolek didn’t do it. How do you know?” 

“He’s in a wheelchair.” 

“I see. So who did?” 

“He’s putting someone up to it. His house was full of Tibetan decór and mystical whatsits. He said he had the power to ‘create life’” - Sherlock used air quotes for the last two words - “and that if we didn’t follow the rules, he’d send his monster after us, bla bla bla.” 

“He threatened you. Are you all right?” 

“Please. It was all hype to try and scare me. Quite humiliating to pretend I believed him, but I think he fell for it.” 

“Damn, I wish I could’ve seen that.”

“Yes, well, thanks to you, I’m supposed to be crazy about mystical whatsits.” 

John grinned. “So what now?”

“Enjoy the Arcadian dream. See what happens next.”

“You don’t have a plan?” 

“Of course I do.” 

John’s smile grew wider. “You don’t! You have no idea what’s going on!” 

“Shut up. Stop smiling. This isn’t exactly the situation I’m used to. I have to use up half my brain power to continue this ridiculous charade. It’s exhausting.” 

John sat next to him on the couch. “I thought you said you were used to acting.”

“Yes, for short intervals while I was on a case. I’ve never had to do it for two days straight.” 

“Well, we don’t have to stay. If this is too difficult for you we can call Lestrade and leave right now.”

“Certainly not. I’m sure the solution is simple, I just need a bit more time.” 

“Okay,” John said. He squeezed Sherlock’s hand and kissed him on the cheek, which made the other man look at him perplexedly. John inclined his head towards the window to indicate someone was walking past. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

“Do you want me to go upstairs and leave you alone for a while?”

“No,” Sherlock said. He put his arm around John and kissed his temple. 

That night, much to John’s relief, Sherlock climbed into bed in his pajamas. The feeling didn’t last long, however, because he soon felt himself being hugged from behind. 

“Um, Sherlock? What are you doing?”

“Cuddling.” 

John frowned into the darkness. “You know you don’t have to keep acting when we’re alone. No one can see us.” 

“Mm,” was the extent of his reply. 

As was often the case when he was with Sherlock, John had absolutely no idea what was going on. But he figured there must be some kind of method to the madness, and he was too tired to argue, so he sighed in resignation and let himself be spooned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You have no idea what’s going on" = me in the middle of writing this fic and realizing I actually have to come up with some kind of solution to this case.


	5. Chapter 5

John woke up to Bubbles barking next to the bed. He looked around; Sherlock was gone. 

“Do you need to pee?” He asked the dog, who yapped in response. John yawned, got out of bed and went downstairs, Bubbles right behind him. After taking her outside, he found Sherlock in the kitchen. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” his fake husband said, and gestured to the counter. “I made toast.” 

John couldn’t help chuckling at how proud Sherlock looked at this accomplishment. “Wow, thanks. You really spoil me.” 

As John sat at the table, Sherlock said: “it’s not blood.”

“Huh?” 

“That substance on the fan and in the sewer, I examined it last night. It’s just rubbish. Literally. This whole place was built on an old landfill.” 

John snorted. “Some paradise.”

“Except someone tried really hard to make it  _ look  _ like blood. Mr. Gogolek has this whole town brainwashed into thinking they’ve created a tulpa and has convinced someone to play the part.” 

“Created a what now?” 

“A tulpa. That’s why Mr. Gogolek has all that Tibetan nonsense in his house. According to the legend, it’s a being that is believed into existence. The more people that believe in it’s power, the stronger it becomes.” 

“Like Tinkerbell,” John said. 

“Who?” 

“Nevermind.” 

“But this thing doesn’t actually exist.” 

“Obviously.” 

“So how do you plan on finding the perpetrator?” 

“We’ll have to catch him in the act.” 

“Wait, you can’t mean you’re going to wait for someone else to get killed?” 

“Not someone,” he answered, looking pointedly at John. 

“Oh, great. I’m the bait.”

“You’ll be fine.” Then, because he couldn’t resist a touch of the theatrical, he reached over to take John’s and said, “Chris, my darling, I would never let anything happen to you.” 

John narrowed his eyes at him. “Just tell me what I need to do.” 

  
  


Their plan had to be delayed when there was another knock on the door. This time it was Win. Sherlock enjoyed taking advantage of any opportunity to put his arm around John, and did so immediately.

“Sorry about last night,” their neighbour said. “My wife gets these crazy ideas in her head sometimes. There’s really nothing to worry about, this is the safest neighbourhood I know! We just have systems in place to keep it that way. Anyway, we’re having a little get together tonight; the whole town will be there, so we’d love it if you came. Keeps the community alive.” 

The double meaning of the last word wasn’t lost on the detective. “Of course, we wouldn’t miss it.” 

John shrugged out of Sherlock’s arms again when the door was closed. “I’m thinking of getting everyone in this town checked for mental illness,” he said. “No one in England is that friendly.” 

Sherlock smirked at him. “It’s a good opportunity for me to look around the rest of their house, since you so rudely interrupted me last time. And I thought I was the anti-social one.” 

“Shut up.” 

Win hadn’t been exaggerating; the whole town had come. Sherlock stood next to John and let him do all the talking while he distracted himself by deducing everyone in the room (it turns out at least half of them were having affairs) and focusing on the comforting feel of John’s arm around his waist.

One woman gushed at them, “you just  _ have  _ to tell me how you got engaged. I love proposal stories. Who proposed to who?” 

John apparently didn’t have an answer for that one, so Sherlock stepped in. “I did. Took him to Angelo’s, the same restaurant where we had our first date. Told him he was the best thing that ever happened to me, love of my life, bla bla bla. All very romantic.” John dipped his head to stifle a laugh. “He started crying so much the waiter had to bring over some extra tissues. I practically had to carry him home, although that made it a lot more convenient to push him into bed, and then those tissues came in handy for-”

“All right, that’s enough!” John cut in, his face red and his grip tightening on Sherlock enough to cause pain. The taller man just grinned mischievously, then went back to scanning the room.

*

“So, Rob, when did you start believing in extraterrestrial life?”

John nudged him, and Sherlock looked at the intruding woman with annoyance. She had interrupted him while he was trying to decide whether the man’s calloused fingers on the opposite side of the room were from playing the guitar or cello. 

“Chris, why don’t you tell the lady about that patient you had with the undescended testicle?” He said, and walked away. He went to the kitchen and picked up a biscuit, noting there was a callous on the man’s thumb too.  _ Cello, then _ . He loitered around the food until he found the opportunity to be able to slip upstairs unnoticed.

A little while later John spotted Sherlock out of the corner of his eye, who inclined his head to the side in an indication to follow. John excused himself to go to the bathroom and they both went upstairs. 

When they reached the bedroom, Sherlock turned over the rug and pointed to what looked like a trap door. It opened, revealing a ladder leading down into a darkened room. 

“You can’t be serious,” John said. 

“Well, our neighbours do love being dramatic.” 

“You’ll fit right in then.” 

“I need you to keep the others distracted while I explore,” Sherlock said, sitting and dangling his legs down the hole. 

“Are you mad? I’m not letting you go down there alone!” 

Sherlock was about to protest when he heard footsteps coming towards them. He quickly assessed his options; could he disappear into the darkness before they came in? Probably, but he wouldn’t be able to pull John in on time, which would mean leaving him to be discovered in the room alone and possibly being attacked, and that wasn’t part of the plan - yet. In a flash he was back up, covered the hole, grabbed John and pushed him onto the bed. Before the other man had time to react, the detective had climbed on top and was kissing him. After a few seconds of initial shock, a wave of determination washed over John as he thought,  _ all right, you want to play this game then?  _ and he started kissing back forcefully. He slipped his hand up Sherlock’s back and-

That’s when the door slammed open and Kami frowned at them. “What is going on here?” 

Sherlock stood up, putting on his best embarrassed face as he straightened his shirt. “Sorry, sometimes we just can’t keep our hands off each other.” 

John, on the other hand, didn’t need to act to look embarrassed. He sat up and blinked, his head spinning. 

Kami was blushing, but still looked stern. “There are privacy hours for a reason. This is highly inappropriate.” 

“Yes, of course. My apologies, it won’t happen again.” Sherlock smiled and batted his eyelashes innocently. 

“Right. Well, we’re about to play charades. Everyone needs to get involved.”

“We’ll be right there,” he said with a grin. 

“Don’t be long.” Kami looked from one man to the other, then left the room. 

Sherlock turned to John with a look that said  _ that was close.  _ “Charades. I think I’d rather get dragged away by a monster.” John still hadn’t regained his power of speech, so Sherlock pulled him up and said into his ear, “pull yourself together.” 

As they made their way downstairs, John whispered, “a little warning would be nice the next time you plan on throwing me into bed.” 

Sherlock’s eyebrowed quirked upwards at the words  _ next time _ . “Sorry, had to think fast.” 

“Don’t you always think fast?”

Sherlock smiled.

It was past 11pm by the time they got back home, and Sherlock immediately went to their bedroom and started ripping up the carpet. 

“What are you doing?” 

“There’s got to be one here,” he said, not looking up. 

“What?” 

“A door. It’s how they get in.” Sherlock handed him a knife. “Help me look.” 

After pulling apart the room and finding nothing, Sherlock let out a noise of frustration. “This doesn’t make any sense!” He looked at the ceiling, then the walls, which he began knocking. 

“Well, maybe they just walked in through the back door. Most people here probably don’t lock it,” John suggested.

Sherlock shook his head. “That wouldn’t suit their style. Monsters don’t knock.” He started working at the floorboards, when John put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. 

“All right, let’s not rip up the entire house. Let’s just stick to the original plan.” 

Sherlock looked up at him, exhaled, then nodded. “You’re right, that would be a lot easier.” 

John raised his eyebrows. “Did you just say I’m right?” 

“Don’t get used to it.” He got up then flopped down onto the bed.

John looked at him and wondered if they should talk about what happened earlier. He shook his head, concluding that a discussion about making out with your best friend right before sleeping in the same bed as a pretend married couple was way too awkward. So he climbed into bed silently and turned off the light. 

He felt a familiar warmth as Sherlock shuffled towards him and put his arm around him. Oh. So that was happening again. He tensed involuntarily. 

“Do you mind?” 

John actually didn’t, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit that yet. “Are there cameras in here you haven’t told me about?” 

“No. This just helps me get into character.” 

John scoffed. That was a bullshit excuse if ever he’d heard one. There were so many thoughts and feelings swirling around his head, and he couldn’t handle an existential crisis right now. So instead he just played along, taking Sherlock’s hand and saying “goodnight, Rob.”


	6. Chapter 6

This time when John woke up, Sherlock was still holding him. John decided he was certainly _not_ going to think about how warm and comfortable he felt in Sherlock’s arms and what that might mean _._ He carefully removed himself and went downstairs to make breakfast, purposefully not looking back at the bed. Bubbles had her own bed in the kitchen, and wagged her tail happily at the sight of him. John, glad to have a distraction, leaned down and rubbed her head before going over to the counter and making two omelettes; Bubbles sat and looked at him expectantly as he cooked.

Sherlock timed his entrance into the kitchen so that he reached John as a neighbour walked by the window, meaning his ‘husband’ couldn’t push him away as he hugged him from behind. He put his head on John’s shoulder and said, “looks delicious.”

John cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I thought maybe we’d have something more interesting than toast.”

“You didn’t like my toast?” Sherlock pouted.

“Honestly? It was a bit burnt.”   
Sherlock huffed and turned to sit at the table, pausing to stroke Bubbles, who only gave him a second of attention before focusing back on the food she was trying to receive.

They ate in a slightly awkward silence. Sherlock was appreciative of the dog’s presence, as it gave him somewhere to look as she sat patiently, her eyes not faltering from their plates. He gave her the last piece of his omelette, to which John said, “you really shouldn’t feed her dairy.”

“I thought you specialized in human patients,” was Sherlock’s irritated response. He picked up Bubbles and took her over to the couch, saying to her, “don’t listen to the mean old man.” 

John laughed at his friend’s bizarre behaviour and looked at him with a fondness in his eyes. He would never understand that man. 

John got up from the table and went into the garage to pick up a spade. Then he went outside and set about his task, digging a hole in the front yard. Less than a minute passed before one of the neighbours ran up to him in a panic. 

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?!” 

“We’re putting in a reflective pool.” 

“You can’t!” The woman looked so distraught John thought she might actually faint. 

“I checked the rulebook, there’s nothing against decorative pools.” 

“Please, at least discuss it with Mr. Gogolek first!” 

John stopped and looked at her. “All right, where can I find him?”

Sherlock watched from the window as John walked off with the woman, and got out his phone. 

Once at his house, John listened disbelievingly as Mr. Gogolek explained the consequences of not following the rules, delivering the same speech as he had to Sherlock yesterday but receiving an entirely different reaction. 

“You really expect me to believe this crap?” John said, keeping to his script. “This is ridiculous, I’m calling the police.” He walked towards the door, but before he could reach it he felt a hard knock over his head and the world went black. 

Sherlock stayed staring out the window long after John was out of sight, lost in thought. When he turned, he sensed a presence. Bubbles clearly did too, as she began growling, looking towards the back of the house. Sherlock cursed himself for being distracted, and walked down the hall to find the back door open and smeared with blood. Steeling himself for a fight, he cautiously followed the bloody footsteps leading up the stairs. At first glance the bedroom seemed empty, but as he walked in he suddenly felt a hand cover his mouth. He elbowed the offender in the stomach, and turned to see a face covered in mud and blood. It was Mike.

“It’s coming to get you,” he whispered. “Stay quiet.” 

Instead, Sherlock ran downstairs and out the back door.

*

John woke up somewhere dark and damp, with his hands tied behind his back and a dull ache at the back of his head. Sherlock and John had agreed on letting himself be captured, but he hadn’t expected to be hit so hard. 

He looked around, and was shocked to see a familiar shape next to him, similarly tied up. “Sherlock?” 

“Hello, John.” 

“Oh, so _those_ are your real names.” They both looked up to see Pat standing above them, the same woman that had had blood streaming down her face the last time they’d seen her through the window. She wasn’t alone; Kami and Win were standing behind her. “We knew there was something off about you from the beginning.”

“You-” John started. “You’re alive?” 

“Of course. I thought maybe if I scared you I could stop you from snooping. But I underestimated the curiosity of your husband here.”

“He’s not actually my husband.” 

Pat frowned at them. “Boyfriend then.” 

“Nope. We’re not together.” 

Sherlock couldn’t hide the hurt expression on his face, and Kami noticed. She piped up, “you might want to try telling him that.” 

John looked over at Sherlock, who had already controlled his momentary exposure of weakness and was staring ahead with his mouth in a thin line and his face expressionless. 

“We’re with the police. Sort of. It’s just a cover, and we’re good actors.” 

Now Kami was intrigued. “If you’re that good of an actor, you’re in the wrong business.”

It was John’s turn to frown. He thought back to how Sherlock had taken every opportunity to put his arm around him, had taken his hand when there wasn’t even anyone around, and then, of course, there was the cuddling. Shit. He’d messed up. 

Pat smirked at them. “Well, it doesn’t matter. You’ll both be dead soon anyway.”

“They’ll come looking for us.”

“And we’ll send them away, just like every other nosy cop that’s butted their nose where it doesn’t belong. It’s a shame, really. A gay couple would’ve been so good for our reputation. Diversity and all that.” 

Sherlock still hadn’t said anything, which was unusual; this is about the time he would be voicing all his previous deductions and bragging about how he solved the case days ago. John was worried that maybe he’d been badly beaten up, when in reality he was using all his energy to maintain his composure. How could these idiots have noticed his feelings, and yet John didn’t?

“Where are we?” John asked. 

“The sewers. We have a network of tunnels down here. But of course, your… _friend_ knew that already,” she said, looking at Sherlock. “We found him poking around while we were bringing you down here. Put up a decent fight, but we outnumbered him.” 

Several other people emerged from the darkness. 

John looked incredulous. “Wait, you’re _all_ in on this? You just go round killing each other when someone breaks the rules?” 

“Only when it becomes necessary. We try to avoid it when possible. But some people are just so… _stubborn_.” 

John studied the faces in front of him. “What about Mike?” 

Pat rolled her eyes. “That man was a liability. We had to get rid of him before he ruined us all.” 

“But why? Is it really so bloody important that all your doors are painted the same colour?” 

Pat gave an exasperated sigh as if that was the dumbest question she’d ever heard. “People like feeling that they fit in somewhere, that they belong. We have a _system_. It works. We’re happy. No one gets hurt as long as they play along.” 

John scoffed. He looked at Sherlock, who just shrugged as if he knew all this already.

“Mr. Gogolek is the genius behind it all; he came up with the idea after a visit to Tibet. We each have our roles. There are those of us that maintain order, and we keep the weaker individuals right where we want them. They don’t know what goes on behind the scenes and they’re easy enough to manipulate - no one would believe them if they tried reporting a monster sighting to the police. We were hoping you two would fit into that box, especially when we heard you were believers. But you just _had_ to keep digging. We won’t let you destroy what we’ve achieved. We’ve created the ultimate paradise here. A transcendence into the new world.”

John just blinked at her. “Are you going to start chanting and dancing around naked?”

He heard a snicker from beside him. 

“Enough talk. You two have caused quite enough trouble already. Especially this one.” She kicked Sherlock in the stomach, and John reflexively lurched forward to help. “Don’t you touch him,” he growled.

She smiled sweetly at him. “Sorry to have to cut your little love story short, boys, but we simply can’t have you interfering any longer.” 

She whistled, and a large shape emerged from the darkness. It looked like, well, a monster. It was tall and large, its body dark green and its eyes a glowing red. It was also dripping sewage, which made the smell almost unbearable.

Sherlock laughed and finally broke his silence. “Oh, _come on_! Where did you get that outfit, Poundland? At least spare us the theatricalities and kill us with decency.” 

The thing roared at them, and leaned over Sherlock’s face. It scratched his cheek with sharp claws, drawing blood. 

“You do have quite good craftsmanship, I’ll give you that.” 

John suddenly wished Sherlock had stayed quiet, and he hissed, “Sherlock, _shut up_ ”. 

Sherlock kicked the thing in the groin, and it coiled over with a groan. He then finished untying his hands from behind his back - amateur work, really - and took off the monster’s mask with a flourish, revealing a very pathetic looking man underneath. “All right, you can come out now!” 

Everyone looked at him uncomprehendingly, until a shout of “everybody freeze!” came from the darkness, and Lestrade walked in with a team of policemen, shining torches into their faces. 

Sherlock untied John, who glared at him. “You didn’t tell me this part of the plan.” 

Sherlock just winked at him. Truthfully, he hadn’t planned on getting captured either, but his panic for John’s safety after seeing the state of Mike had caused him to seek John out immediately instead of waiting for Lestrade, and those damn emotions had gotten in the way again, inhibiting his reflexes just enough to allow the others to overpower him. But John didn’t need to know that.

“Sherlock, did we just disband a cult?” 

“Yes, I suppose we did. Your alien story was actually quite genius, they probably would’ve attacked sooner had they not trusted we were believers.”

John must’ve been hit on the head harder than he thought, because there’s no way Sherlock Holmes just called him a genius.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive THANK YOU to everyone that read this far! It turns out coming up with a logical explanation to an X-File is HARD, so I hope it at least kinda makes sense (or if not, that it made you laugh). I'm still new to this writing thing and I squee every time I get a comment.

“So, how long had you known?” John asked when they were back in Baker Street and had washed off the smell of sewage. 

“Which part?” 

“The sewer system.” 

“I had my suspicions from the beginning, but I had to prove it. I knew once I’d lured them all down there they’d be dumb enough to leave the way open so that Lestrade could get in.” 

John tapped his fingers on the chair. “So where was the entrance?” 

“The garden. Manhole. Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” John repeated, before exclaiming: “so I was right, they _did_ come in through the back door!”

“You were half right.” 

They sat in silence for a few minutes. 

“Sherlock, I-” 

“John, should we get a dog?” Sherlock interrupted. 

“What?” 

“Bubbles turned out to be quite indispensable to the investigation. I bet if I trained her more she could-” 

“Sherlock, if you got a dog it would be dead within three days.” 

“Not if you feed it.” 

John snorted. “Me? Why should _I_ feed it?” 

“I have much more important things to be focusing on.” 

“Right, because you would only need her for the _case_ ,” John said, a smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not buying it. You just want to keep her because you thought she was cute. Admit it.”

“Don’t be preposterous,” Sherlock said, averting his eyes. 

John just kept looking at him smugly, until Sherlock finally threw up his arms. “All right, fine! She wasn’t completely insufferable.” 

John couldn’t hide his glee. 

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“But you were thinking it.” He looked at John, almost shy. “So can we keep her?” 

“I’ll think about it.” 

Sherlock went out on the pretense of meeting a client, and came back with a very familiar chihuahua in his arms. 

“Hey, now wait a minute, I didn’t agree-”

“But you were going to.” 

“Wha- how- no I wasn’t!” 

“Yes you were. You liked her too. _Admit it_.” His eyes were sparkling. 

John grumbled. “If you poison her with one of your experiments, I’m not paying the vet bill.” 

They were distracted the next few days with settling in their new flatmate. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, the dog on his lap, when John finally noticed it. 

“You’re still wearing the wedding ring.” John had already handed his back to Lestrade at Arcadia and had assumed Sherlock had done the same before he had run ahead and left John behind, as usual.

“Hm?” Sherlock glanced at his hand. “Oh. Must’ve slipped my mind.” 

“I see. Deleted it?” 

“Mm.” 

John nodded, sat in his chair, looked at Sherlock, who seemed to have acquired a sudden fascination with the wall. “Lestrade will want that back. It’s police property.” 

Sherlock didn’t answer or turn his head, his only movement a delicate brush over Bubbles’ fur with his left hand. 

“Sherlock? Can I take it back to him?” 

His hand paused then twitched slightly, as if seeking comfort from the animal. John noted the hesitancy with which his friend removed the ring and handed it over to him, still avoiding his eyes. Damn it, they were gonna have to have a conversation about this at some point. They both _hated_ conversations. 

“Right. I’ll be back later.” He took the ring and headed to the station. 

“So how was it? Being married to the freak?” Sally asked as he walked through the office. 

John forced a smile at her, a greeting which had become a habit thanks to the residents of Arcadia. He made a mental note to stop smiling at strangers before the whole of London thought him a psychopath. “Not bad, actually.” 

Sally just gave him a look of disgust and walked away. 

When he entered Lestrade’s office and handed back the ring, the inspector said: “Ah, so he did keep it. I was wondering where it went.” 

“He’s been wearing it this whole time. And he’s acting… weird.” 

Lestrade raised his eyebrows at him. “Weirder than usual, you mean?” 

John sighed. “I think it might have been a bit much for him, having to act for that long. It wasn’t like him at all, he was so… _nice_.” 

Lestrade pondered this and looked at the ring. “You know, he didn’t even hesitate when I brought you the case. I don’t think that’s the problem.”

“Then what is?”

“I don’t think he was acting.” 

*

When John walked back into 221B, Sherlock was in the kitchen feeding Bubbles a biscuit. 

“Please tell me that isn’t laced with drugs,” John said. 

“Merely a mild sedative.” 

John closed his eyes and made himself inhale and exhale slowly. “Sherlock, I swear to God, if you kill our dog-” 

Sherlock smiled at the words _our dog_. “She’ll sleep for a few hours and be fine.” 

John crossed his arms and looked at him. Sherlock straightened and looked back, deducing his discomfort and nerves, which, to be fair, he was doing a spectacularly terrible job at hiding. “That’s not the only thing you’re worried about. Come on then, spit it out.”

It took John a moment to gather his courage. He braced himself, looked the detective in the eyes and said, “I’m sorry for being such an idiot.” 

Sherlock just rolled his eyes and said, “really, John, there’s no point apologizing for things you can’t control.” 

John’s lips twitched as he was caught between wanting to laugh and growl in frustration. “I meant about… us.” 

Sherlock’s sarcastic retort was caught in his mouth as he watched John step towards him until he was standing inches from his face. 

“The case,” he said. “That… wasn’t acting, was it?” 

Sherlock swallowed and blinked at him as all the gears in his brain abruptly screeched to a halt. “What do you mean?” He asked meekly. 

John held his gaze as he said, “you didn’t have to be that affectionate with me, and when we were in bed I thought… bloody hell, I don’t know what I thought. Just another one of your tricks. And then the kiss-” he laughed and looked away as he flushed with embarrassment at the memory. “I’m sure in all your genius you could’ve thought of a different way of distracting them. But you didn’t. At first I figured that was another way of you trying to humiliate me. Unconventional, but effective.” He locked eyes with Sherlock again and the corner of his lips quirked upwards. “But it wasn’t that either, was it?” He refused to look away now, daring the other man to contradict him.

Sherlock looked pained. “John, I’m sorry. I-” 

He was cut off with a pair of lips pressing against his own. It took him a second to realize John was kissing him. He automatically responded with a frankly embarrassing amount of enthusiasm, but when John coaxed his lips apart, his mind came back online and he pulled back with a jolt. 

“John, I don’t understand. I thought you weren’t-”

“I’m not,” John smiled, then placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him again. Sherlock let him.


End file.
